Old Ironside

Recently, I purchased the third season of Ironside starring Raymond Burr. Why the third? No special reason. It wasn’t that I remembered it as a stellar season or one that contained favorite episodes. I only know that—a couple of decades ago—I purchased the first two seasons of the show on VHS tapes. I would receive one tape every six weeks with four episodes on it. Getting the whole kit and caboodle at once wasn’t an option back then, which—if nothing else—prevented binge watching.

Just having the opportunity to revisit an old show like Ironside again, which was hard to come by in reruns, was pleasure enough. And even when old TV classics turn up in syndication nowadays, the commercial time has mushroomed well above the allotments of network television when Ironside first aired. Taking meat cleavers to shows from yesteryear—and chopping them down by ten to twelve minutes—leaves a lot unsaid. To make matters worse, it’s often clueless individuals who are given the task of gutting the likes of Ironside by some twenty percent. Doing this to Blue’s Clues might not blow holes in the plot, but 1960s and 1970s crime dramas lose a great deal in their abridged translations.

Anyway, back to Ironside, uncut and in living color. The show has got a winning opening theme by Quincy Jones. With its burly lead character, Chief Robert Ironside, wheelchair-bound throughout Ironside’s eight-year run, I will concede that the intro and episodes themselves have a somewhat campy feel all these years later. The irascible Chief twisting, turning, and chugging along can be a bit distracting at times. Let’s not forget that the man also loved canned chili, which he consumed regularly with undisguised glee. Although it always crosses my mind when the chili-loving is brought up, flatulence was never once addressed—as far as I know—on the show. It’s funny that Detective Columbo was partial to chili as well. A coincidence? If only Ironside and Columbo had done a crossover episode. They could have enjoyed a bowl together.

The filming side of Ironside runs the gamut: some atmospheric location shots in San Francisco and the surrounding area at one moment, then the actors sitting in front of a screen featuring moving traffic or some such thing. The Ironside players—the Chief, Mark, Ed, and Eve—are, too, frequently going to bat for friends, former lovers, or relatives in trouble. I suppose it’s not uncommon in life to have a pal who is accused of murder or an old classmate who is up to his ass in alligators with the wise guys. It just hasn't been my experience yet.

Now that Ironside’s peculiarities have been cataloged, I must say that I fancy it. I didn’t watch the show when it originally aired. In fact, when I was very young, the opening segment featuring the Chief getting gunned down—in the back no less—gave me the willies. Instead, I discovered Ironside in 1980s reruns, when New York City local stations showed such stuff during the afternoon hours and before the commercial deluge took so much away.

I can’t help when I watch shows like Ironside—and spy the copyright—but feel nostalgic. I find myself imagining what my life was like when an episode originally aired. Season three of Ironside appeared on the 1969-1970 prime time schedule. I was in the second grade at St. John’s grammar school. I had one of my all-time favorite teachers, Mrs. Kehayas, that school year. She had show-and-tell sessions. I recall bringing a clock that I received for Christmas—a unique timepiece that didn’t actually keep time. Rather, it chugged along—like Chief Ironside—in five-minute increments. It’s five after two; it’s ten after two; it’s a quarter after two. I believe I showcased my proficiency in telling time to my seven-year-old peers. If only I had that special clock now on my curio shelf. Apparently, though, time waits for no man and no woman, including Old Ironside and me.

(Photographs from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)